


I Don't Know

by BenedictCumbertrash



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute Sherlock, F/M, Frustrated Sherlock, Ill Sherlock, Lemon, Love Confessions, POV Sherlock Holmes Partially, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock is a Mess, Virgin Sherlock, date with sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:18:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6840502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenedictCumbertrash/pseuds/BenedictCumbertrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock slowly comes to the realisation, or more like accepts his feeling towards you. Expressing it through the series of convenient and well planned events that occurs, like a story or a fanfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You loosened the scarf off your neck and placed the bags on the table, “Well, I’ve got the basics: milk, bread, eggs and the sheep’s eyeballs you wanted. Sherlock! You listening?” You rolled your eyes at the lack of response from the man with his chin resting on his close palmed fingertips, as John lifted his nose up from the newspaper in his hand and gave you an apologetic gaze.

‘Mind palace’ his mouth formed the words, soundlessly.

“Of course.” You rolled your eyes again, maybe a bit too far back.

“Keep that up and your eyeballs might just roll back into your socket.” Sherlock mused.

“The lord speaks!” You exclaimed, sarcasm dripping from each enunciated syllable.

The corner of his lips turned upwards, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Is that a smile I see?” You questioned; amused by his odd gesture.

“Perhaps.” He stated as his lingering gaze tore off you and resumed his activities of doing who knows what.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, your look asking for answers from John, Sherlock was acting odd – more so than usual, should that be alarming or not? Shrugging the questions off you waved at the two “I’ll be taking my leave then, call me if you need me. Goodbye gentlemen.” You walked down, “Bye Mrs Hudson,” you shouted before taking your leave.

 

John’s nose was still above the paper as he observed Sherlock.

“What?” Sherlock said; a hint of irritation in his tone.

John reluctantly put his paper beside him, “Sherlock, what was that?”

“What was what?”

“That stare, I know that stare anywhere.”

“As much as it pains me to say this, feel free to expand.”

“Well…” John started, “you like her.”

Sherlock snickered.

“Me?” He mused, “absolutely absurd; you feeling okay John?”

“What, no.” John straightened himself up, “don’t start to give me that: ‘I’m married to my job crap.’ You like her. Fact.”

“Leave the deducing to the professionals. Now get me some coffee, would you.”

John sighed in defeat grouchily walking off.

 

 

_“What do I do?” Sherlock wandered around in the room, pacing around, his chin on his fingertips. The walls were dark and the only source of light was the dim ray of moonlight that sneaked in through the windows – the light glistened against his calm, pacific eyes._

_“Well just confess, you like me. Odd for you- but after all, you are only human” Y/N said._

_“But I’m not this human. Emotions are just not for me. Especially ones that are so strong, powerful, so dominant._

_Agh!_

_I just can think anymore, and what am I if I can’t think!_

_It’s you. You’ve made me like this. You’ve made me just a little bit more human. You Y/N._

_Why.”_

_“Well I can’t answer you properly can I? I’m a figment of your overactive imagination. So just speak, talk to me. Maybe, just maybe, it can lead to a revelation.”_

_“Fine.” Sherlock grumbled._

_He ran his hands through his hair._

_“I don’t like you. I just have a strong emotion of admiration towards you. You’re uncommon._

_First time I met you, you were smiling as if you didn’t have a care in the world. I despised that. Shook you off as another average human, who couldn’t differentiate between careless wonderland and the malicious earth. I couldn’t have been more wrong. You walked up to me and reached your hand out to me ‘Hello’ you said ‘my name’s Y/N’ you said. And that was it; your voice trapped me – ensnared me. Each and every syllable carved in my brain, my pulse increased just a bit, my pupils dilated just a bit but obviously I shrugged it off, frightened of such foreign emotions. That was a long time ago but still, look at me. Every single day since you reeled me in. The way you bite your tender lips, bat your delicate eyelashes, play with your opulent hair. The way you hold and carry yourself with such poise. How you articulate exactly what I’m thinking, challenge my thoughts, put so much faith and trust in me and the way you jus- agh. Look what you’ve done to me. Look at what a mess I am. And what’s excruciatingly painful is how oblivious you are. You’ve made an utter wreck out of me and yet you touch my arm and giggle like it doesn’t do anything to me. It’s frustrating.”_

_He sighed, gazing at Y/N with such adoration, tenderness and longing._

_There was such anguish visible in his delicate eyes, yet a spark of passion and determination flickering within._

_Haltingly he took one step forward and another and another, and another. Towering over her due to his height._

_“Sherlock. What are you doing?”_

_“You should know.”_

_His eyes were brilliant and blazing in the pure, silver light of the moon. He rested his forehead on Y/N._

_“A confession you wanted, a confession you'll get.” He whispered in your ear, his tone low and deep. He inched closer and closer to Y/N lips. Now their bodies were intertwined, his hand on her lower back holding her tightly in a hug an embrace while hers rested on the back of his neck- only air between them. And the sexual tension._

_“I. Love. Yo-”_

 

“-u. There's a case for you. Hey, Sherlock. Sherlock. Come on, we’ve got a case.”

He blinked a few times, 3 to be precise. Your voice was like a splash of cold water on a warm day. A clandestine shade of ruby spread across his face.

“Ah. Y/N, a case, um yes.” He stuttered, his words and thoughts so unorganised for the first time in a long time.

“You okay?” You pressed your forehead against his, your hands resting on his shoulders. “God. Sherlock you have a fever.” You gasped, concern and worry heavily present in your tone.

“No, I’m well. Just, just thinking about somethi- about, um yo-”

He laid still, his head resting on your shoulder, his body numb in your arms as you clung onto him tightly.

“Sherlock? SHERLOCK!”


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock jolted awaked, pushing himself off the couch with his arms, but still remained seated – too weak to get up. You finished tying your hair back/pushing it back, coat and scarf off; you were ready to tend to the poorly detective who was sweating off his shirt and frantically looking around.  
“Well, John visited. Checked up on you, he says it’s just the flu. Nothing a good day inside and a bowl of nice soup can’t fix.” You grinned. “But until then, you’re stuck with me. Sorry.” You chuckled.  
He intently stared at you.  
“Make-up done. Best jewellery on. Hair done. Nice dress. By any chance, did you have a date?” Sherlock frowned.  
“Well planned on having a date, lovely guy from the library. But then the case came up and I did not want to miss that! Ditched the poor fellow with an apology and a rushed kiss on the cheek.” You played with your fingers and looked away.  
“Liar.”  
“What?”  
“You played with your fingers, an unusual trait of yours that’s displayed only when you lie, you broke eye contact with me – natural tendencies of humans when they lie. And why ‘did not’ all of a sudden why not ‘didn’t’? You didn’t use the contraction form of did not, another common sign of lying.” He coughed.  
“So, the truth please. Why didn’t you go on that date?”  
“Smartass, if you can figure all that out, you should know why.” You crossed your arms, his face was blank. You exhaled, rubbing your temples, “you, Sherlock, you. I can’t just leave you like this.” You hinted at his not so good state and headed into the kitchen, ready to prepare some soup for the ungrateful bastard.  
Sherlock remained unmoving, unsure of the reason. Typically he would think until he reached a conclusion as to why he felt just a tinge of happiness but it was just so damn hot, he couldn’t focus. He lugged to the windows and pushed it open, sighing at the cool breeze that danced around his sweat slick skin, the sun was hiding away; emitting colours of beauty and warmth as it gradually sunk from the skyline. The colours mingled with each other so naturally in shades of azure, honey and deep yellow, the scene soft on the eyes and gentle to the heart. He rested his body on the side of the wall, still looking at the beautiful sight in front of him.  
“Sherlock? What’s up?” You chimed your voice soft and mellow, in hopes of not alarming him. You stepped closer to him, mimicking his actions and leaning on the wall, but facing him. He turned his head to look at you; he took in the beautiful sight in front of him.  
A bead of sweat trickled down his sharp cheekbones and down to his prominent neck, you grabbed a towel nearby and wiped his face and neck. His dishevelled curly hair lay flat on his head, he was breathing more heavily than usual, his shirt practically clinging onto every crease of his thin yet muscular body.  
“Hot in here, isn’t it?” He sulked.  
A frown was etched into your face, “take your shirt off,” you demanded bluntly.  
“Why exactly?”  
“Bloody hell Sherlock, you’re complaining that it’s hot while your sweating like you’ve ran a marathon, and that high fever isn’t exactly helping you and… pit stains.”  
He remained stoic as he started to open his buttons. His hands moved like a drunken snail, unexpectedly and rather slowly. You huffed in annoyance and pushed his hands away, quickly working away at the buttons and then slipping it off his warm body.  
“Here.” You handed him the towel and placed the shirt down. “You can wipe yourself clean right. Okay.” You shoved the cloth in his hands without a response and rushed to the kitchen.  
Sherlock stood there frozen, again experiencing these odd emotions and sensations. To him, every accidently touch of your hands and his chest seemed to leave his heart clenching and stomach moving. To him, ever button hastily undone was the pace of his racing heart. To him, every breath you took was every breath you took from him, leaving him breathless. He traced the path of your hands with the towel, imagining it was you who was delicately patting his rising and falling chest. He caught himself getting lost in these emotions and feelings - and it scared him, these things don’t happen to Sherlock Holmes, that was his theory and it was wrong. He hated being wrong.  
He threw the towel on the chair, muttering profanities under his breath as he stomped away to his bedroom, locking it behind him.  
“Sherlock? Oi?” You stopped your actions and instantly pursued his direction sensing something was wrong, halting at the locked door, you knocked softly.  
“What’s wrong?” No reply.  
“Come on, Sherlock, tell me.” No response.  
“Please?” Nothing.  
You sighed and slumped down on his chair, inhaling that comforting scent of his, closing your eyes.  
“Please.” You whispered.  
\-------------------  
After a silent debate with himself he had come to a conclusion.  
Sherlock quietly walked towards your sleeping figure, he had assumed that you had been very tired after taking care of him for about a day – nonstop. The distance between you two was fading; he crouched down and rested his face in his palms – elbows propped up on the armrest. Your lips were slightly parted, your eyelashes brushing your smooth cheeks, your chest rising up and down with every breath in and out. A strand of hair rested on your face, so out of place, and it took a lot for Sherlock not reach out and place it behind your ears. Such a beautiful sight. After a few minutes, Sherlock promptly stood up, flustered by how out of character he was acting.  
He turned his back to you and picked up a fresh shirt lying around beginning to put it on.  
“Mm, Sherlock,” You groggily spoke and sat up rubbing your eyes.  
He turned around and gave you look of reassurance, “I feel better now, just a bit, and don’t mind that little outburst back then. Just the illness taking over.” He shrugged as if it was nothing, indirectly compelling you to do the same.  
“Well you did say we had a case didn’t you? Get ready then.” He said nonchalantly.  
“Oh that. Nothing that will interest you, plus you’ve not fully recovered yet.” You ushered him on the couch and looked at him dead serious.  
“Don’t try to convince me otherwise.”  
“I am not a child Y/N.” You remained silent.  
“Look, no fever. That’s a good sign. So let’s go.” He stated, as he stood up. You pushed against his chest in an attempt to get him back down but it was no use.  
“Now, are you going to be accompanying me? Yes, okay, might want to change that dress – not the best attire to wear to a morgue. Gives the wrong message. There are some of your clothes from last time somewhere over there; hurry now.” He moved you towards the direction of the clothes.  
You sighed, but you were happy to have your Sherlock back. Without blinking you took your dress of and replaced it with some jeans and a shirt, turning back and giving a thumb up. Sherlock looked absolutely astonished although naked or partially naked women had little effect on him.  
“What?”  
“Well you just took your clothes off in front of me. Pretty risqué.”  
“But it’s you Sherlock. When does the female body ever affect you, unless years of repressing your sexuality and urges are all coming out at once, which I doubt.” You chuckled. “And you did tell me to hurry up.”  
You grabbed your bag and gestured at him, “Come on then.”  
\-------------------------------  
You stepped away and started talking with Molly, about the murder and just stuff in general, leaving Sherlock and John to converse.  
“You look better.” John declared.  
“Why thank you John, I think it’s the new face wash I’m using.” Sarcasm laced in his tone. “On topic John, the murder.” He fixed his eyes on the body, doing the thing he does.  
“So anything happen?” John spoke up.  
“A murder.” Sherlock deadpanned.  
“Y-you know what I mean.” His face scrunched up in irritation.  
Sherlock just manoeuvre his way around the body, focused on the problem at hand – the murder – that is.  
“Any advancements.” John raised his eyebrows.  
Sherlock inspected the wound on the man.  
“Oh seriously Sherlock, you think I’m daft?”  
“Yes.”  
“Look at me. Stop acting like you’re interested in this blatant suicide and let’s talk about what’s really important right now. Y/N.”  
Sherlock huffed.  
“Now you’re clever.” Emphasising the now.  
“Sherlock.” John said expectantly.  
Sherlock pulled John to the corner of the room and signalled for him to lower his voice.  
“So?” John started.  
“I do not like Y/N, if that’s what you’re implying. Just a big mess made by confusion.” He whispered.  
“Oh,” he looked at Sherlock, “Well that’s rather disappointing; me and Mary were looking forward to the double date.”  
Sherlock gave a questioning look.  
“God Sherlock, I was joking, it was a joke. And honestly you’re not fooling anyone but yourself.  
You know what I’m sick of this – you go back there and ask her on a date, an outing or whatever makes you feel comfortable and see, if you love her or not.”  
“No John, that’s… actually an okay idea. 

Fine, will do.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added old chapter 3 to chapter 2 for those who haven't seen it, please read it first. For those who have read the scene with John and Sherlock talking in the last chapter ignore this note.  
> And also if you have any ideas for a name for this fic please comment, because the title 'I don't know' honestly reflects how I'm trying to think of a good name for this fic.

A candle sat between you two, filling the area with a touch of light in the otherwise dim place. Not that it was bad, just strangely romantic. Romantic as in candles, wine, a rose on the side and everything – the ideal date, date?  
“So what is all this Sherlock?” You asked taking a sip of your drink  
“Well, just wanted to hang out.”  
You raised your eyebrows at him, “You sure? It seems like a date to me.”  
“Please, you of all people should know I don’t participate in such trivial social activities.”  
You smiled bitterly in response, “Let’s _hang out_ then.”  
Sherlock looked away, and back at you hoping you would say something to ease the tension.  
“How are you, is the cold gone?” You opened.  
He nodded in response, “You.”  
“I’m good yeah.”  
You both took a sip of your drink simultaneously.  
“How was your day?” Sherlock inquired.  
“Good – um actually I was doing some research. Well I was reading the news and that somehow escalated into searching the internet about you, don’t ask.” You smiled. “Do you know what fanfictions are?”  
Sherlock looked at you quizzically.  
“Well since you’re quite the celebrity now, your fans write stories about you – hence the name fan fiction. And gosh there are some crazy people out there, there was one called um, um Benedict Cumbertrash I think, Wrote a love story about you and me where you’re an actor called Benedict Cumberbatch and I was Y/N L/N. We were actors on a show called Sherlock! Absurd!” You chortled.  
Sherlock joined you, contemplating the strange idea presented to him “Benedict Cumberbatch? Weird name, sounds like a fart in a bath.” His eyes crinkled with laughter.  
You attempted to control yourself, your laugh slowly diminishing. “Not only that but apparently this ‘Sherlock’ show was based on some popular series of books, like most are, and your catchphrase everyone knows you by is ‘elementary my dear Watson’. Upon further reading there was this scene where you looked at a tree in a crime scene with the symbols of fire, water, earth and air engraved in, and John – um no sorry ‘Watson’ asked you what it was.”  
Sherlock gave you the biggest grin ever, “Element tree my Dear Watson.” You both laughed at the joke and you wiped a tear away.  
You two were gathering unwanted attention, and you felt yourself being forced to quieten down, while Sherlock was still grinning.  
“Don’t get me started about the number or ‘fanfics’ between you and John or even better yet – Moriarty.” You hid the blush by covering your face with your hands.  
He gave a look of grimace upon the name of Moriarty but regained his usual composure, Sherlock took another sip. He was slightly enjoying this. Whatever _this_ was.  
You and Sherlock kept on talking, talking about all sorts, joking, playing just having a good time.  
While doing so the waiter came up, “Sorry for the delay, we ‘ad some problems in the kitchen. But it’s all good now. So sir, ma’am what would you like?”  
“I don’t mind, you order.” You nodded.  
Sherlock started ordering but the waiter was making you way too uncomfortable, clandestinely looking where he shouldn’t be.  
“Hello, waiter?” Sherlock eyed the man up and down, “your last relationship wasn’t really the best was it?” He paused and looked at the crossed out tattooed name on his arm.  


“Ohh she left you. Let me guess, she didn’t like your mother, or was it that she didn’t want to marry you?” He said eyeing the two rings on his necklace, and the heart tattoo with ‘mum’ written on his collarbone.  
Sherlock sighed.  
“Nonetheless, eyes off my date’s breast and listen to me would you.”  
You murmured ‘Sherlock’ trying to stop him from embarrassing the poor guy. Oh you were also screaming inside. Sherlock freaking Holmes called you his date, but then again he could just be joking.  
“Some more wine as well please.” Sherlock added with an innocent smile. The waiter rushed away, blushing – poor guy.  
You gulped down your glass of wine and took a deep breath.  
“What. The. Hell. Sherlock.”  
“Yes, yes as you say – I probably should refrain from doing that so casually.”  
“Um, yeah.” You said avoiding the entire ‘my date’ situation.  


The rest of the ‘hanging out time’ went well, the candle’s flame glowed brightly, the wax dripping down the white candle as time passed by. The restaurant closed, ending the little rendezvous between you two and you and Sherlock were left to roam the streets of London. The moon was on full display and the stars were luminous against the sombre sky. It was almost midnight and you and Sherlock were a bit tipsy, after downing a bottle of wine (or two). You were walking back to 221B Baker Street instead of taking a cab home, it was convenient and easier to just take a cab when you were at Sherlock's, plus you didn’t want to leave just yet. Both of you reminisced about the events that occurred just a while ago laughing as if it was an old, inside joke. You clung onto his arm as you chatted, worried that you might trip in your heels and Sherlock – he held you tightly, fretting to let go.  


You both let out a shaky breath as you paused in front of the door, Sherlock fiddled with the keys and lock in an attempt to open the door.  


“Well I guess I’ll be taking my leave then.” You said slurring just a bit.  


“I had fun Sherlock; we should ‘hang out’ more often.” You pulled him into a hug, tip toeing as he bent down slightly to hug you, you kissed him on the cheek before turning around.  


You looked around for a cab.  


“Wait.” Sherlock spoke up, he checked his watch, “it’s not safe Y/N, it's midnight in London. Don’t take that risk; just stay here, just for tonight.” He said almost pleading.  


You giggled, “If you want.” You smiled at him.  
He grabbed your hand, smiling back, he lead you in and closed the door.  


This was going to be an unforgettable night at 221B Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter will be out soon, by saturday I swear, i have to prepare myself to write as best as i can because a horrendous attempt of a lemon will be next (First time lemon writer so please go easy on me), so for those who don't like lemons, goodbye. I will be writing oneshots later under this account so stay tuned, and for those who enjoy a bit of lemonade *repeatedly raises eyebrows*, enjoy - i hope lol.
> 
> BTW: http://www.radiotimes.com/news/2013-12-31/5-of-the-best-and-worst-sherlock-jokes


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LEMON, well an attempt at one. plz dont laugh lol. ;-;

You lay your head on the chair and so did Sherlock on his chair opposite of you.  
It had started raining outside, the noise of rain clashing against the ground bringing a sense of comfort. The fire was animated, dancing in the fireplace, touching the room with a warm glow.  
“So” you said.  
“Sherlock, don’t tell me you’re asleep.”  
He hummed.  
Back to silence.  
You stood up, stumbling towards Sherlock, with effort you took a step forward, and another before you faltered, about to fall down on him – but just in time he took his hands out and held you. One of your knees was bent, resting on the couch, the other supporting you, while he had his hands on your bare shoulders, your hands on top of his shoulders as well.  
“Close call.” You giggled.  
Slowly, he pulled you in, resting your head on his shoulders and your body against his, his arms lingered around your waist. He took few deep breaths, mindlessly bringing you closer. The buzz of the alcohol had suddenly dissipated, leaving intimate emotions in its place.  
“Did you know, I’m human.” He muttered next to your ear.  
“Did you know, I have needs and urges as well?” He sighed.  
“Did you know, I get so jealous when you allow random men from the library, or whatever, to go on a date with you, or when you allow men to stare at you with that hungry look in their eye, when I’m. Right. There” he breathed.  
“Did you know,” he guided you above his thighs – your knees resting on either side, his slender fingers pushing a strand of hair away from your face, holding your hands. He looked up at your face, both of you were frozen, still in the moment.  
Your hands clung on to his shoulders, your head falling on his forehead, you closed your eyes.  
“I love you” You said.  
Your lips grazed his, two hearts thumping heavily and louder together.  
“You stole my line.” He smiled against your lips.  
You lightly pushed him further in the chair, adjusting your legs on either side of his. You gazed into his teal eyes, and he gazed back at you, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips, glazed in unseen emotions and passion, swirling and mixing. Touching and needing.  
You wrapped your arms behind his neck, slowly moving in.

Leaning down. 

Inching closer. 

Getting nearer. 

As near as possible. 

Time froze around the two of you, the air was filled with the sound of you two breathing, the clashing of the rain drops fading into the background. And that was it.   
Your eyes closed in bliss as parted lips met, tenderly stirring against each other, his hands on your hips and your hands in his tangled hair. The movement of his lips revealed everything.  


The intertwining of your lips said ‘I’ve waited so long for this.’ 

The way his lips stroked yours said ‘I need you.’ 

His soft lips caressed yours saying ‘I love you.’  
Both lips parted, allowing the tongue to delve in further. Like an orchestrated scene, everything in perfect balance and harmony as hands roamed aimlessly, mouths played amiably, but everything’s merely started. Your hands had a purpose; they stopped drifting and started undoing the buttons on his shirt, fingers fumbling and stumbling its way down and afterwards slipping the material off his torso. You pulled away from the dance of the tongues and he reluctantly opened his eyes, confused as to why you pulled away. He gave a glance at your desperate state and grinned, hands traveling up to unzip your dress, guiding it down and leaving you bare.  
“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this.” He chuckled; get riding of the bra, the barrier between skin and skin.  
He let it fall off but you immediately raised your arms in an attempt to cover up, “q-quite cocky for your first time,” you blushed.   
“Couldn’t say the same for you.” He teased, as your face turned a darker red.  
You dropped your arms to your side, standing up; you turned around and ran to his bedroom. He willingly followed your steps, finding you standing in front of the bed.   
“Shall we.” You invited him.  
He had poorly concealed lust and desire in his eyes, he stalked up to you.   
“We shall.” He growled.  
He pushed you on the bed, his hands had a mind of its own, gripping, squeezing and feeling. Eyes discovering, examining and gleaming. He was attacking your lips biting and pulling and teasing, oh the teasing, he moved down to your neck, sucking and leaving marks that dotted your skin.   
He pled for acceptance with his eyes and you gave him a solemn nod, he advanced further down your body laying a trail of kisses and paused just above your underwear. He slightly raised his head, taking a deep breath before removing it.   
“Oi,” You said reeling your legs in shielding them with your arms, “You too,” you pouted.  
“Go ahead,” he dared you.  
You raised your eyebrows and smiled, crawling towards him, your butt high in the air. You gripped his torso and slid your hands down; pulling his trousers down as slow as you could – provoking him. He groaned in frustration and arousal. You saw a big bulge and a damp patch in the centre.   
“Eager are we?” you whispered.  
The last barrier was gone and both, you and Sherlock were admiring the beauty in front of each other.  
You gripped his erect penis and licked. Swivelling your tongue around the tip, and started bobbing your head each time getting deeper and closer as you can, making him release foreign sounds.  


Ungh. 

Mmph. 

Ahh. 

He gripped your head, and guided you nearer and increased your speed. You were getting faster and faster and he was getting closer and closer. He was at the brink of ecstasy, the zenith of pleasure but he fell down, he panted hard and looked at you, softly laying you down, you were confused as to why he stopped you.  
“Don’t make me lose control, this soon.” He smirked and brought his hips closer, but this time you stopped him.  
“Condom.” You said.  
He didn’t reply.  
“Please say you have a condom here.”  
“Well, yes, I believe there’s some in John's coat let me get them.  
But why. Based on our non-existent sexual history the chance of a disease or infection is unlikely.” He shouted from the other room, searching for one.  
“Babies. Sherlock. We don’t need another little you right now.” You shouted back.  
He came back, blushing, wrapped and ready.  
“Never mind, where were we.”  
He leaped on the bed, capturing your arms above his head, lips hovering your jaw and neck.  
“Here.”  
He slowly entered.  
Your face scrunched in discomfort, and Sherlock tried going slowly.  
“From all the sports you used to do, can’t believe your hymen is still so intact.” He grunted in-between breaths.  
He thrusted.  
“We need to work on your dirty talk.” You sighed, biting your lips.  
His pace sped up; the pain faded away and was replaced by a strange, comforting feeling.  
You moaned, encouraging Sherlock.  
“Dirty talk?” He huffed out.  
“Mmm, like, I don’t know: Baby don’t stop! Oh my god, I love it when you do that!” You said breathing heavily.  
Sherlock moved harder and quicker, aroused by the unintentional words that came out your mouth.  
He suppressed his moans, and thus they came out as odd mumbles.  
You slightly giggled at the noise.  
“It’s okay Sherlock, let me hear you.”  
His moans and grunting ringed in the room, arousing you even more.  
You arched your back and angled your hips, allowing him to reach the deepest parts of you.  
Your moans joined in.  
You gripped his shoulders and he had his hands wrapped around your hips and legs, both of you moved fluently and in harmony, bliss about to overcome you.  
“Oh Sherlock.” You whimpered.  
It was like a firework, you heard it - felt it coming. And it happened. It exploded, followed by another one and another one. You allowed the bliss to control your, closing your eyes and releasing a final breathy moan.  
Sherlock also joined you. He tilted his head up and moaned, a drop of sweat rolling down his side.  
He slipped out of you and slid up your body, resting his head on your chest with half his body on the bed, one leg between yours and the other on the outside.  
“We should do that more often.” He sighed.  
“Mm.” You agreed.  
He flipped around removing the condom and lazily tossing it towards the bin, missing by quite a bit.  
You rested your head above his arm that draped around your shoulders, hands on his chest. Both of you smiled, content and happy.  
“So dirty talk, was it?” He said raising an eyebrow.  
\-----------------  
“Mrs Hudson, is Sherlock still asleep?” John asked, opening the curtains letting in the light of the morning.  
“Ooh, they haven’t slept all night.” She tittered.  
“Well didn’t seem like it anyways.” She smiled, walking away.  
They? Moriarty perhaps?  
“Sherlock!” John shouted. “Are you okay?” concern lacing his voice.  
He barged in his room, worried that his friend was stuck in another awkward - potentially dangerous situation with the man.  
He froze. Taking a while to comprehend the scene in front of him.  
Sherlock. You. Naked.  
He didn’t know whether to be happy, freaked out or disgusted.  
So it came out as a gagged, “Wow?”


End file.
